Dancing With Jesus
by Marla Fair
Summary: A new boy in town spells trouble for Mary Ingalls. As Golden Caughey and his brothers are drawn into the Ingalls' life and home, it becomes clear that all three boys are keeping a secret. Will they find out what it is before Christmas arrives?
1. Chapter 1

Dancing With Jesus

ONE

Caroline Ingalls put down the wash basket she was holding, placed a hand in the hollow of her aching back, and asked her child, "Laura, where is your sister?" Mary had promised to help her with the wash, but her eldest was missing.

Laura looked up from what she was doing – which was creating a Christmas card for her pa.

"She's out," the little girl replied as she tilted her head and squinted in an attempt to get something on the card right.

Caroline moved to the window and looked out. It was snowing – lightly – but one never knew when a sudden change in the wind or the weather would turn a shower into a squall.

"Did Mary say where she was going?"

Her daughter made a quick dash with the pencil and held the paper out at arm's length. Then she cocked her head again.

"Laura?"

"Oh, sorry, Ma. You know, it sure is hard to draw a horse." Laura laid the paper down along with her pencil, and picked up her brush. "Mary didn't say. She just said 'out'."

Her eleven-year-old daughter had grown quite mysterious of late. She supposed it was growing pains. The child was beginning to think of herself as an adult when she had years of learning and gaining experience ahead.

"Did Mary say anything about when she would be back?"

The paint brush was busy at work, creating Pat – or maybe Patty's tale. "About n hour," Laura answered.

"And when did she leave? It's almost four now."

For a moment Laura said nothing, then she looked up from her work. "I think…she left around two or two-thirty."

Caroline let out a sigh. Now she had _two _of them missing! Charles had gone into town early that morning with the promise that he would be home by noon. There were lots of things to do before Christmas Eve and Christmas Day and her handsome husband had promised to help.

Apparently there was more of her father in Mary that she thought.

"You want me to go look for Mary, Ma?" Laura asked as she scooted her chair back.

"No!" Caroline drew in a calming breath. "I mean, 'no, thank you'. I know where you and Carrie are and I would like to keep it that way."

Laura grinned at her. "You're mad at Pa, aren't you? And at Mary?"

"I'm not mad, I'm…." She thought a moment. She had been a school teacher after all and there were words…and then there were _words._ "The proper word is 'exasperated'."

Laura's little head cocked again. Her pigtails bounced. "Extremely irritated and frustrated, right?"

"Er, well, yes…."

"That was one of the words Miss Beadle put on the board last year after her meeting with the school board."

Caroline chuckled. "Oh, dear." She turned from the window and crossed over to where Laura had left her paper. On it was the nine-year-old's rendition of her father out feeding one of the horses. "This is very good, Laura!" she exclaimed. It looked like Charles. She'd especially got the hair right. It was brown and looked like a sea of curls caught in a storm.

"Pa's awful handsome, isn't he, Ma?"

She smiled. "Well, yes, I think so."

"I do too. You know, I don't like boys with blond hair much."

"As I seem to remember, you were rather partial to red."

Laura blushed. "Ah, Ma…." Her child shook her head. "But I like brown best of all. Makes me wonder what Mary sees in that new boy in school. She…" Her daughter froze, abruptly aware that she had let her sister's 'cat' out of the bag.

"New boy?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Laura admitted with a sigh. "His name is Golden Caughey."

"Golden?"

"The girls all call him 'Gold' and the boys call him 'Goldilocks' to be mean."

"And I take it his locks are golden from what you said earlier?"

"Yes, Ma'am. Curly, and gold as the summer sun. He's kind of cute, but he ain't nowhere as handsome as Pa."

Caroline had gone over to the stove and was beginning the preparations for supper, supposing her two wanderers would decide to show up at some point.

"When did…Gold come to school?"

"Just a few weeks back," Laura replied as she began to put the finishing touches on her card. "Him and his two brothers are living at the old Jenkins place."

"Just the three of them?"

"Yep. Gold's older brother, Wells, he takes care of them. He's seventeen."

She couldn't help but wonder what their story was; three young men, alone at such a tender age. "How old is the other brother. The little one?"

"He's younger than me, but older than Carrie. His name is Charlie."

Caroline turned to look at her daughter. "Golden, Wells…and Charlie?"

Laura nodded.

_Definitely _a story there. She wondered if she would ever learn what it was.

Mary Ingalls' wrapped her hands around her shivering frame. She had worn her winter coat, a hat, and mittens, but the light was fading and she was cold. She'd arrived earlier in the day and picked out a pretty rock that leaned out over the rushing water for her chair. It was midday now and the late afternoon light was spilling through the trees. Near the bank the water had a crust of ice on it. In the center of the stream, it rushed wild and mad. Medium-size snowflakes were falling and, everywhere they landed, they turned the brown earth white. It made everything look like a fairyland.

Just like it made the young man who had come to meet her look like a prince.

Golden Caughey was just about the most handsome thing she'd ever seen. His thick hair looked like spun-gold, and he had the deepest, darkness eyes – matched by his eyebrows, which were brown as a walnut shell. Golden was two years older than her, even though they were at the same level in school. He said he and his brothers had done a lot of traveling before settling in Walnut Grove, and there really hadn't been much time for learning. He talked about his Ma sometimes, though he never said a word about his pa. When she pressed him about it, he clammed up like a shell. So, after a while, she'd let it go. It really didn't matter anyhow. What mattered was that they were friends, and friends were there for each other – like today. Golden had been real upset at school the day before. She'd promised to meet him here today so they could talk. She hadn't asked permission, knowing her Ma would never let her go out into the woods to meet with a strange boy who was two years older than her. Ma and Pa would insist on meeting him and his older brother.

Golden didn't want anyone to meet Wells.

She didn't know why. Truth to tell, half the time it was just Golden and his little brother out at the Jenkins old place. Wells worked in Mankato and only came home every couple of weeks. Golden and Charlie didn't want to end up in an orphanage, so they'd made her promise that she wouldn't tell her parents about what they were doing.

She'd made that promise even knowing she'd get a licking if Pa found out she wasn't telling the truth.

"I better get home," Mary said as she stood up and looked at the sky. "I told Laura I'd only be an hour at most, probably less. My Pa's away, but Ma will start wondering if I don't get back."

Golden nodded. He'd been standing with one boot on a rock, looking at the rushing water. "Thanks, Mary, for…well…you know, keepin' it quiet about you and me."

She shivered and then walked to his side. "I didn't know there was a 'you and me'," she said.'

He laughed. "You sure are blunt."

"Is that a good thing?"

"Sure," he said with a grin. "You're not like the other girls I've known. They were…." The blond boy paused. "I had to chase them away instead of chasing them, if you know what I mean?"

Mary blinked. "Are you chasing me?"

"You might say so." Golden tipped his head and ran his fingers through the mass of curls that fell across his forehead. "Are you okay with that?"

"Well, other than it making me feel like a turkey, I guess it's okay."

He snorted this time. "There you go again!"

Mary frowned. She'd had other boys tell her she was a know-it-all and that girls weren't supposed to speak their minds. She'd gone ahead and done it anyhow and told them they were idiots.

"Do you mind?" she asked.

"What?"

"That I speak what I think?"

He shook his head. "Not at all. My Ma's…she was like that. She told me that the only people you need to worry about are the ones you like for who they are, and the ones who like you for yourself."

Mary smiled. "She sounds like she was a good ma."

Golden blew out at puff of air. "She was. I'm gonna…. Well, I miss her."

She reached out to place a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, but I _gotta_ go. Ma's gonna have a conniption fit."

He frowned as he looked up at the sky. "I don't know, Mary. It's getting dark and I hate to think of you walking back alone." Golden suddenly brightened. "Say, why don't you ride into town with me and then I can take you home after I pick up Charlie?"

Mary shook her head. "I couldn't do that. I need to go now."

"But a horse moves ten times as fast," he pleaded. "We can make it to town and back in less time than it'll take you to walk home in the snow. I'd take you right there, but I gotta pick up Charlie. He stayed late after school to help Miss Beadle."

She wanted nothing more in the world than to take a ride with Golden. Not only did she want to spend more time with him; he had about the most beautiful horse she had ever seen. Nugget was a palomino with a near-white mane that stood fifteen and a half hands high.

Itwould be _just_ like riding with a prince.

"Come on, Mary, no one will know," he leaned in and whispered near her ear. "This way we can talk longer and still get you home."

She knew she shouldn't. She knew what her parents would say.

She also knew what _she _would say.

"Okay, but we need to make it quick!"

She'd told Laura she'd be home around three-thirty at the latest. It was going on four when they pulled into town. Charlie had his own pony and Golden walked them right over to the school, only to find out that his brother's Connemara wasn't there. He left her sitting on Nugget as he went inside to ask Miss Beadle about it, and came back out a minute later to say that Charlie had got bored waiting for him and gone over to the Oleson's store. Mary felt uneasy about the fact that they had to go to the store now, where people might see them together.

She felt even _more _uneasy about the look Miss Beadle gave her as her teacher followed Golden out the door and watched them ride away.

By the time they reached the Oleson's mercantile, the light was beginning to fade. Her only hope was that Nugget was as fast as Golden said he was and could get her home in a real big hurry. Like the gallant knight she thought him, the blond boy helped her off the horse and held the door for her as they walked in. At first, they couldn't find Charlie and, when they did, it really surprised her where the little boy was.

He was looking at ladies shoes.

Golden walked right up to his brother and gently cuffed him up-side the head. "What are you doing here? You know I told you to wait at the school."

"Sorry, Gold," the seven-year-old apologized. "I wanted to come over and look for a Christmas present."

"And just what do you think you're gonna buy these Christmas present with?" her friend snapped. Then he lowered his voice. "You know we barely have enough money to buy what we need."

The little boy's eyes were misty. He was staring at a fancy pair of ladies boots, two-tone, with buttons up the sides and lace on the top edge.

"Mama sure would like these," Charlie said.

He glanced at her "She _would have_, but she don't have any need for fancy boots now, Charlie. You know that."

Mary caught something in Golden's voice as he spoke those last three words. She wasn't sure what it was, just that it was funny-sounding.

Charlie hung his head. "Sorry, Gold. I just want Mama to be happy," he sniffed, "in Heaven."

"Don't you know?" Golden asked, his tone bitter. "_Everyone_ is happy in Heaven. Now, come on, we gotta get Mary home before she gets into trouble."

The sound of someone clearing their throat made the three of them jump – and then it made Mary gulp over a lump in her throat the size of the Kansas territory.

She lifted a hand and waved.

"Hi, there, Pa."


	2. Chapter 2

TWO

They were heading home. Mary glanced at her pa where he sat on the wagon seat beside her. He hadn't said much since they'd left the Oleson's and started the ride back home through the snow, but she knew he was mad.

_Real _mad.

Ma told her once to watch Pa when he was dealing with a customer who was trying to cheat him. She'd heard him that morning telling her ma how angry he was. Instead of blowing up like other men did, Ma said, Pa got real quiet. She said he was like a kettle with the water roiling and bubbling in its belly until it finally boiled over. Ma said it was Pa's way of dealing with his anger and making sure he didn't say or do anything he would regret later.

So far, Pa hadn't said a word.

As they slowly traveled the distance to home, mindful of the road and of the ice and snow, Mary thought about what she'd done. It had seemed okay at the time, but now that she thought about it, if Laura had told her she was going to go off with an older boy and stay out for hours, she would have warned her that she'd have a whipping waiting for her when she got home – and that didn't include riding to town on the back of the boy's horse!

Mary bit her lip. She drew in a breath, held it, and then let it out with the words, "I'm sorry, Pa."

Pa didn't look at her, partly because he had to keep his eyes on the road, but partly because she knew the kettle was about to boil.

"Sorry for what?" he asked.

The blonde girl frowned. Wasn't it obvious? "For meeting Golden without asking if I could."

"And?"

"Riding with him into town. I thought…."

Pa glanced at her. She could see the storm brewing in those green eyes of his. "You thought…what?"

A second breath steadied her. "I thought it wouldn't hurt. I thought…nobody would know."

"So that makes it all right? What you do when no one can see doesn't matter?"

When he said it like that, it sounded all wrong.

Mary dropped her head and studied her hands. If there was one thing she tried to do – most of all – it was to avoid _anything_ that made her look bad. There was something deep within her that was really afraid of that. She _needed _to be good, to be smart, and wanted to be thought of as….

Perfect.

A single tear trailed down her cheek. She sniffed before speaking. "I don't know what to say, Pa, other than, I was wrong."

He nodded. For a few seconds he said nothing and then, "So, what do you think your ma and me should do about it?"

Mary glanced at the older man. He was serious.

Since when did Pa or Ma ask her what punishment she should get?

Pa let out a little sigh that formed a cloud on the breeze. "Mary, you're getting' older. There are girls your age who are working to support their families. Some are thinkin' about getting' married in a couple of years. I can't just take you over my knee anymore."

She blinked back more tears. "I am _so _sorry, Pa! I just didn't think…."

"No, you didn't." He was silent a moment and then he said, "I'd expect this from Half-pint, but not from you. Your ma counts on you. She's got more than her share, runnin' the house and lookin' after you and your sisters. It's gonna be mighty hard for her if she can't trust you to be truthful."

"I won't do it again, Pa, I swear!" The tears were flowing now. "I don't care what you do to punish me. I deserve it. I…. I let you both down."

The horses' hooves thudded against the hard packed snow, the bells on their harnesses jingling. Above their heads the moon peeked out, as if to watch their progress, and then ducked back behind the clouds. Somewhere nearby a hawk screeched, seeking or having found its dinner.

Without warning, Pa brought the wagon to a halt. He turned in the saddle and looked at her. Then he reached out and brushed a hand over the hair that spilled out from under her bonnet.

"Mary, your ma and I love you and we only want what's best for you. Like the Bible says, there's a wide and a narrow path. It's our job – our commission from God – to make sure you take the right one. There are things that seem like they don't mean much at the time – deception is one and lyin' is another – but in the end they're the things that turn our feet the wrong direction. Now, I know, just goin' off without talkin' to me or your ma first don't seem like such a big thing and maybe it's not. It's the thought behind it you have to mind and that's thinkin' you know better than us."

Mary's fingers were crushing the fabric of her skirt. She nodded.

"I understand, Pa."

"Good," he said as he picked up the reins and urged the horses to move, "then we'll say no more about it."

Her head came up. "You're not going to punish me?"

Pa smiled at her. "Knowing you, Mary, you'll punish yourself enough. You're a good girl. You made a mistake." He held her gaze. "Just don't make it again."

The next morning dawned bright and beautiful. The snowfall totaled around a foot and a half and, as Laura stepped out of the door, she thought she had never seen such a lovely sight in her life. She liked it best when she was the first one out of the house after it snowed 'cause that meant no one but her had walked on the snow unless it was a deer and maybe a rabbit or fox. On her way to the barn she'd look behind her and it would seem like she was the only one in the whole wide world. Of course, she only liked that feeling because she knew she wasn't. She knew her ma and pa and sisters were all in the house, just a shout away.

Although she wouldn't be shouting for Mary today. All Mary would do is shout back.

It made her mad at first, but then it seemed kind of funny, Mary being the bad one and her being, well, the good girl. Mary only got mad for two things: something she thought was wrong, and someone thinkin'_ she_ was wrong.

Pa'd sure given her what-for!

When they came home the night before, she could tell Mary'd been crying. She didn't know why exactly until she laid awake and listened to her parents talking softly in their bed. Mary hadn't just gone off lolly-gagging, she'd met with a boy! And then, she'd let him take her to town on his horse! Laura paused as she placed her hand on the latch to the barn door. She still couldn't see how Gold Caughey was worth getting' in trouble for. He was okay, but he seemed kind of, well, backward to her. He didn't say a lot and he was always lookin' at you like he thought you were lookin' at him.

Like he had a secret or something.

As she stepped in the barn, Laura greeted their barn cat and then shouted a happy 'hello' to Pat and Patty. The wind had been strong the night before and driven the snow in-between the boards, so there was a light layer of it in the stalls. She knew _she _wouldn't want to sleep on snow, but Pa said the animals didn't mind. God had made them hardy and able to take it. In spite of that, Laura got a broom and started sweeping some of it away. As she did, she heard a sound. It was a strange one for this early in the morning.

It was the sound of a wagon's wheels.

Putting down the broom, Laura went to the door and looked out and – you could've knocked her over with a feather. It was Golden Caughey.

"Mornin', Laura," the blond boy said as he tipped his hat.

"What are you doin' here?" she responded. "Ain't you caused enough trouble already?"

"Well, hello there, Gold. Nice to see you, Gold," he snorted. "Didn't your Ma teach you any manners?"

"You better get out of here. If Pa catches you here, he's gonna…."

Laura's voice trailed off. Her pa was standing in the open door.

"Mary's not allowed to see anyone, son," Pa said. "You just turn around and go back home."

Gold looked from her to her pa as if he was tryin' to decide which of them was the unfriendliest. "Is it okay if I get down and talk to you a minute, Mister Ingalls?" he asked.

Pa thought a second and then nodded.

Gold walked right up to Pa and faced him like a man.

"I'm not here to see Mary," he began, "but before I tell you why I am, sir, I _would _like to apologize. You see, well, my brothers and me don't really have to worry about what anyone else thinks. We pretty much do as we please and have for a long time. I guess I didn't think about the fact that Mary would be different."

"I understand your parents are both gone?" Pa asked.

"Yes, sir. Pa died a good while back and Ma, well, Ma just kind of slipped away. Wells takes care of us when he's here."

"And is he here now?"

"No, sir. He's off working in Mankato. He's due back in a week or so."

She could see her pa thinking it over, a fourteen-year-old boy and a little one younger than her, livin' all by themselves. He held his peace for near a minute and then nodded. "Apology accepted. Just see that you don't go doin' anything like that again." As Gold nodded, Pa went on. "You let us know if you and your brother ever need anything, you hear me?"

Gold pursed his lips and then blurted out, "I can't find my little brother."

"Charlie?" Laura asked. "You_ lost_ him?"

"I took him home with me last night after dropping Mary off, but when I got up this morning he was missing. He took Seamus and left before the first light, it seems."

"Where would he have gone?" Pa asked.

Gold winced. "We…we got into an argument last night. I'm afraid he's gone after Wells. Charlie said he'd rather live with older brother than with me."

Laura wanted to ask what they'd fought about, but it really wasn't her business.

But she _sure _wanted to know.

"Was he smart about it?" Pa asked.

"Yes, sir. Charlie took his heavy coat and wore his mitts and hat. He must of filled his saddlebags with food from the kitchen, 'cause there was some missing. I thought…" He turned and looked right at her. "I thought he might have come over here, sir. Charlie's got a crush on Laura."

Her eyes went wide. "Me? For gosh sakes, he's only seven!"

"Laura," her father warned.

"Yes, sir." Pa callin' her 'Laura' meant she was about two steps from trouble.

"I'll get my hat and coat and come with you," Pa said. "No boy that young ought to be out in this weather." As Pa looked up, the wind took hold of his curls and tossed them in his eyes. "There's a storm brewing. Maybe a bigger one than last night."

Laura looked up too. The sky just looked like the sky to her. There was a low line of clouds on the western horizon and the breeze was kind of strong, but that was it.

"How do you know, Pa?" she asked.

Her father laughed. "On account of I'm old."

"Pa?"

The call had come from in front of her and behind Pa. He turned to see what she saw – Mary standing on the porch looking like she'd just swallowed a big old chunk of rhubarb.

"Golden's here lookin' for his brother," Pa said. "Seems Charlie ran away."

"Oh, dear!" their mother remarked as she joined Mary. Ma had Carrie on her hip. "He's such a little boy."

"I'm goin' with Golden to find him. I won't be long," Pa threw over his shoulder as he entered the house.

Gold twisted his hat in his hands. "Hello, Mary," he said.

Mary didn't say anything. In fact, it kind of looked like she was hidin' behind Ma's skirts the way Carrie did sometimes.

"It's all right, Mary," Ma said softly. "You can talk to your friend."

"I'm sorry about yesterday, Mrs. Ingalls. I told Mr. Ingalls I just wasn't thinking."

"Well, we certainly appreciate you coming here to tell us that, but it doesn't really matter. Your brother is what matters." Ma shifted Carrie to the other hip. "You think he went to find your older brother?"

"We were arguin' about money," Gold sighed. "I told Charlie we don't have any and he said that Wells did and he was gonna go find him." He sighed. "I didn't think he meant it."

"Oh, dear! Then you think he's on his way to Mankato?"

"Yes, Ma'am. Charlie, he can take care of himself pretty good. We all had to learn how. But he's just a little kid." Gold's eyes flicked toward her. "Course he thinks he knows everything."

Laura was about to respond to that when her pa came out of the house all kitted up for bad weather, with his rifle in his hand. He looked at the sky again and then at Gold.

"We best get goin'. If I know anything, and I think I do, that storm's gonna hit in a couple of hours."

"Charlie's riding Seamus," Gold said. "They won't be movin' too fast. She's old and fat."

Pa walked over to Ma and took her hand. "I should be home before dark," he said. "If I'm not for some reason, don't you go worryin' your pretty head, you hear? We might need to camp out."

Ma gave him a nod – that short little one that said 'yes' when she was really thinkin' 'no'.

"Laura. Mary."

"Yes, sir?" they chimed in chorus.

"You take care of your ma and little sister."

"Charles?" Ma called. "Try to make it home. It's Christmas Eve tomorrow."

He nodded. "I'll do my best." Turning to Gold, Pa asked, "Do you want to drive or do you want me to?"

"I can, sir. I know the horses."

"All right then," Pa said as he climbed up onto the wagon seat. "The sooner we get going, the sooner we'll be back." He watched as Gold picked up the reins and slapped them on the horses' hind ends. A moment later the wagon began to roll.

"God speed, Charles," Ma said.

Laura stood there watching until her pa was nothing but a spot on the horizon and then she went back into the barn and picked up the broom and began to sweep –

And pray.


	3. Chapter 3

THREE

Golden Caughey was quiet as the two of them rode through the darkening day. The bank of low clouds had moved past, bringing with it a steady, solid wind that threatened to pull the hats from their heads. It wasn't more than an hour before the day became dark as the night and a steady snow began to fall. Charles had taken over driving as the white flakes began to swirl about them. They were heading east and the wind was coming in from the west so, while it blew in their faces and near froze their noses off, it left the roads fairly clear.

'Clear' being a relative term.

As they bumped along, Charles thought about all the times he'd run away when he was a little boy. Though he thought his ma a queen and his pa, the smartest man ever, in his child's mind he had also thought the two of them put together didn't know much of anything. He, of course, knew everything, and so when his parents had told him he couldn't go to a neighbors to their barn dance because a storm was comin' up, he'd ignored them and decided to walk there on his own. He'd been about Mary's age at the time and just as determined. He'd made it about halfway there when a devil of a wind kicked up and he'd found himself in a world gone white. At first, he couldn't feel his feet. Then he lost all sensation in his fingers. Finally, it was like he was a walkin' ghost – already dead – puttin' one foot in front of the other, not because he cared if he made it to the dance, but because there wasn't anything else _to_ do. He didn't remember much after that except fallin' on his face in the snow – and then his father's face looking down at him with concern. He'd awakened at the neighbors to the news that his stubbornness and selfishness had ruined the night for everyone since they never got to dance because they were out in the storm riskin' their lives lookin' for _him._

"Mister Ingalls," Golden said, breaking his silence.

"Yes, son?"

The boy cleared his throat. "I ain't exactly been honest with you."

Charles glanced over at him. "Oh?"

"It was Wells' idea. He said it wasn't nobody's business but our own and we weren't exactly lyin', just stretching the truth a bit."

Charles blinked snow out of his eyes. He glanced at the sky. It was comin' down harder.

"So what's this sorta truth you been stretchin'?"

Golden swallowed hard. "My ma ain't dead."

He looked at the boy. He was nearly as white as the snow.

"Why would you lie about that?"

"Ma's sick…real sick. The doctors in Mankato said she couldn't get better. We just had to…wait…for the end." Golden shifted uncomfortably. "Wells said he didn't want people's pity and that we could take care of our own."

Charles heart sank. Not only were the Caughey boys young and on their own, they were watchin' their Ma die a slow death.

"Is it a cancer?" he asked gently.

Golden nodded. "Yes, sir. Ma, well, she lived in San Francisco before I was born. Wells' got a different pa from me and Charlie. He don't know who he is. Ma was…a dancer. She lived a hard life. The Doc said it's what's killing her."

Charles was silent a moment. "Go on," he said.

"Ma met my pa when she was older. He took her away from San Francisco." The boy laughed. "She was expectin' me when they left and that's why she called me 'Golden', 'cause I was made in the Golden State. Charlie was named after Pa." Golden fell silent for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice trembled. "Pa died and Ma couldn't do nothin' but go back to…dancin'. When she got sick, she said she wanted to go home to…die."

"Your Ma came from Walnut Grove?"

"The place we're stayin'at? That belonged to her Ma's sister. We got the deed and all."

"So she's there? At the Jenkins' place?"

"Yes, sir. She ain't got long."

They rode a bit in silence and then Charles asked, "So why tell me this now?"

"I think Charlie ran off on account of Ma." The boy shook his head. "He's got a burr under his saddle that he's got to get her somethin' for Christmas on account of she asked."

"Did he tell you what it was?"

Golden shook his head. "No, sir, he didn't. Just that he had to get it for her and get it afore she passed."

So Charlie was a small boy with a mission. That made finding him more difficult. He'd probably try to hide from them if he heard them coming.

Golden must have been thinking the same thing. He was looking up at the sky. The snow had increased in intensity. It was coming down so fast now it was quickly filling the wagon bed. Charles looked up too – for just a second – before returning his attention to the road. It was a good thing he did. A dark shadow lunged out in front of them and halted dead center of it. His first thought was that it was a deer. His second, that it didn't matter. If he didn't get the team under control they were going to end up with a broken wheel.

Or worse.

"Ma?"

Caroline looked up from her sewing to find her oldest child standing beside her. It was way past the girl's bedtime. In fact, it was past hers, but she couldn't sleep. She kept thinking of Charles and of that poor little boy lost out in the snow.

"You should be asleep," she said softly.

Mary rounded the chair and took a seat on the floor near the hearth. She had let it burn low, but there were enough embers to give out a gentle heat. Her daughter shrugged her shoulders before answering.

"I don't understand why Pa didn't punish me," she said. "For what I did, I mean."

"Going off on your own and meeting with a strange boy?"

"Golden isn't a strange boy, Ma. He's a friend."

"But he's a stranger to me and to your pa."

Her girl pondered that a moment and then nodded. "So why didn't Pa punish me?"

Caroline put down her sewing. "Well, you're a little old for taking over the knee. What kind of punishment do you think you deserved?"

"I don't know, maybe…I can't read a book for a month?"

"Then how would you do your schoolwork?"

"Oh, yeah." She thought a moment. "How about, I won't be allowed to set the table, or help cooking supper? Or maybe, I should be _made _to cook supper every night."

"Mary, listen to yourself," Caroline said, her tone soft. "You've already answered your own question."

"I have?"

"You like to read. You do all your schoolwork. You help me out with the chores and with fixing supper almost every night." She almost chuckled at her child's quizzical expression. "Does that sound like a 'bad' girl to you?"

"But I broke the rules!"

"Shush, mind your sisters are sleeping." The blonde woman reached out to touch her child's silken hair. "Yes, you broke the rules, but you've said you're sorry and we've accepted your apology. You're growing up, Mary. If we haven't taught you the difference between right and wrong by now, your father and I are the ones who have done wrong."

Mary looked down. "I guess I kind of lost my head. I…like Golden. When he said he wanted to meet me, I said 'yes' before I thought about it. Then I was afraid to ask."

"Why?"

Her eldest rolled her eyes. "You know Pa and _boys_. He thinks they're all out for something."

This time she did laugh. "That's because he _is_ a boy." Caroline smiled. "The time's coming when there are going to be a lot of boys coming to this house. I think your father is just trying to delay it as long as he can."

"Do you think he'd let me see Golden again?" she asked, her eyes wide.

"I imagine so, after a time – and here at the house." Caroline yawned. "Oh, dear, I guess I'm finally getting sleepy."

"You're worried about Pa, aren't you?"

The blonde woman looked out the window. It was plain as day that the storm had arrived. She thought a minute before replying. "Mary, I trust that God will look out for your Pa, and that your Pa knows how to look out for himself."

"Then how come you're worried?"

Her smile was a bit rueful. "Because I'm human, and no human is perfect." She reached out to tap her daughter's nose. "Not even you! " Caroline rose to her feet. "Now, I think it's time that both of us try to get some sleep."

Mary rose too. Her eldest looked at her and then threw her arms around her waist. "Thanks, Ma. I don't know what I'd do without you. Or Pa."

Caroline's eyes went to the window again, noting the steadily falling snow.

Truth be told, she didn't know what she would do without Charles either.  
**********

"Are you all right?"

Golden nodded his head. The boy had been tossed out of the wagon when they listed to the side and had fallen into a deep bank of snow. Charles was shaken, but he was all right. He'd managed to keep his seat and keep the team from bolting.

"You climb back in the wagon, son, and wrap yourself up in one of the blankets we brought."

"Did you see what it was?" Golden asked as he did what he was told.

Charles shook his head. The large, dark shape had bolted out in front of them, frozen, and then run across the road and down the slope beside it quicker than you could say 'Jack Robinson'. He could hear it still, milling about in the trees as if lost, which made him think it wasn't a wild animal but a domesticated one.

"I'm gonna go find out. You stay put 'til I get back."

"Yes, sir."

Charles hadn't missed the fact that the boy's teeth were chattering. The night had grown very cold and he was feeling it in his bones. They'd both dressed right, but even that only did so much when it came to the cutting the kind of wind coming out of the north-west. His concern for Golden's small brother was increasing. It was unlikely the boy was going to be able to navigate the weather, and it was plain impossible for him to have reached Mankato and his brother. In his life he'd heard tell of too many tragedies that started just this way.

He was hoping this wasn't one more.

Charles kept his rifle at hand as he broke through the trees and began his search. Even if what he'd seen _was _a domesticated animal, any animal half-frightened out of its wits was dangerous. A stray hoof could claim a man's life as easily as a storm. As he neared the bottom of a short drop, he heard a nicker and then a blow. The curly-haired man halted where he was and began to talk.

"Hey," he said, "you're not alone. I'm coming to help you, but I need you to help me. You gotta stay where you are." He took a step. "There's nothing to be afraid of."

This time there was a high-pitched whinny followed by the sound of hooves striking the hard-packed earth.

Charles reached out and pushed a branch up and ducked under it. As he did, something shifted just to his right, startling him. Without warning, a pair of hooves appeared out of nowhere aimed right at his head. He ducked – almost in time. One of the hooves caught him on the shoulder. The resulting pain that shot through his side nearly drove him to his knees.

Nearly.

He managed to keep his feet and started talking again. "Hey, boy. You don't want to hurt me. I'm here to help." He knew by now that it was a horse he was talking to – a very wary and terrified horse. He could just make it out in the moonlight. There was something hanging from its side.

It looked like a saddle.

A name came to him, he didn't know from where unless God was jogging his memory. "Seamus?" he called softly. "Is that you, boy?"

The horse whinnied again. Softer this time. Its foot stamped the earth once more, but with less fury.

"I'm gonna come closer, boy. I'm not going to hurt you."

As he approached the horse, the moon broke free of a bank of clouds and its light shone through the openings in the bare branches above his head. It was a pony, all right, around twelve to thirteen hands. He couldn't tell what color it was, but he thought it was light with a dark mane. Charlie Caughey was a little feller from what he remembered. Small for his age. The short fat pony was just about right for him. Charles took a moment to look around, half-hoping he would and half-hoping he wouldn't see a small form lying on the ground.

He didn't find anything.

Holding his shoulder with his right hand, he approached the skittish animal. It shied back but didn't run, and then actually seemed glad of his hand when he placed it on its muzzle. The horse snorted again and leaned into the touch.

Charles took hold of its reins, noting they were intact, and then looked around the horse's head to the small saddle that dangled from its side. It looked like the cinch had let loose.

"Where's Charlie, Seamus?" he asked. "Where's your rider?"

"Mr. Ingalls?"

Charles winced as he turned. Golden was halfway down the hill. "I thought I told you to stay with the wagon."

"You did, sir. I got…well…worried, you were takin' so long."

"This your brother's horse?" he asked.

Golden slid the rest of the way down the slope and came to his side. The boy's eyes went wide when he saw the pony – and the saddle.

"Yes, sir. That's Seamus." He turned in a circle. "Is Charlie here?"

Charles shook his head. "Ain't been sight or sound. Looks like he didn't pull the cinch tight enough."

"Charlie ain't very big. He don't have the strength." Golden choked. "Do you think he's dead?"

"Now, don't you go jumpin' to conclusions. He might have slid off nice and slow."

"Then why is Seamus here?"

"Spooked, maybe." Charles caught the reins in his hand and turned. He groaned as he did.

"What's wrong?"

"Sorry to say, Seamus took exception to me presentin' myself," the curly-haired man laughed.

Golden studied him for a moment. "You're bleeding!"

Charles looked. He wasn't sure how Golden knew that until he saw the dark liquid seeping through his fingers. "I'll be okay. We need to get back up to the road and see if we can figure out where Seamus came from. Or better yet, maybe he can take us to Charlie."

Golden brightened. "I bet he can! They sure are friends."

Charles glanced at his hand, noting that the flow of blood was more than he might have hoped. Still, he'd had worse before.

"Well, then, why don't you and me see what we can do about reuniting them."


	4. Chapter 4

FOUR

Caroline Ingalls was up and about her chores, but her mind wasn't on them. It was five in the morning and so far, Charles had not returned.

Her bed had felt very empty the night before.

Christmas Eve day had dawned bright and beautiful, revealing just how much snow had fallen the night before. If it hadn't been for the fact that her husband – and two young boys – were out in it, she would have marveled at its beauty. God's majesty showed in all of his work, but never more so than at dawn and dusk. Outside her window was a sea of white; its waves capped with rose-gold. Snow clung to the trees and lay like a thick frosting on the barn and their other outbuildings. When the light caught it just right, it flashed like diamonds. And it was silent. Completely silent.

Which left her with too much time to think.

She knew her husband was an experienced woodsman. She also knew that she was to trust in God. 'Nothing will happen that God does not permit or allow,' she reminded herself again as she put on a pot of coffee in the expectation that her husband would walk through their front door at any minute. The trouble was – and she had learned this at an early age when the answer to several of her _very _important prayers was 'no' – God didn't always want the same thing she did. God's purpose was so much wider and broader than their own. He worked their lives with eternity in mind, not today or tomorrow – or even next year. God's pursuit was His glory and sometimes that meant that those who belonged to Him had to endure and have faith.

In spite of everything.

As her fingers closed on the sugar jar, Caroline paused and let out a sigh. She closed her eyes and whispered, "Sorry", even as a slight smile curled her lips.

Sometimes she felt as young as her children.

As she turned toward the table, the blond woman paused. Someone was rolling into the yard. With her heart in her throat, she rushed to the door and threw it open. Disappointment mixed with joy. It wasn't Charles. It was Isaiah Edwards. The mountain man was already jumping down from his wagon and reaching in the back.

"Mornin' Caroline!" he said cheerfully as he approached her sack in hand.

"Good morning, Isaiah."

"Did I make it afore the girls are up?"

She nodded. "They're all still asleep."

Isaiah held the sack out. "Since we're gonna be gone this year on Christmas, I wanted to bring their presents out." He winked. "You can just tell them they're from Santa."

As she took the sack, Caroline said, "You spoil them, you know?"

The mountain man looked startled. He drew in a big gulp of the crisp morning air. "I don't nose me nothin' rotten." He laughed and then looked toward the barn. "Charles up and at it already? I might as well wish him a merry Christmas while I'm here."

Her face fell. "Charles isn't here. He went out last night looking for a little lost boy." Her eyes went to the snow, which was beginning to glisten as the sun melted its crust.

Isaiah's brows climbed toward his slouch hat. "How long's he been gone?"

"Oh, about a day. He and Golden Caughey took off in the morning yesterday."

"Who's missin'?"

"Golden's little brother. Charlie."

Isaiah pulled at the whiskers on his chin. He looked toward the road and frowned. Then he looked at her again. "You want I should go try and find them?"

"I can't ask you to do that," she replied. "It's Christmas Eve Day and you're leaving town."

"Well, I'm gonna have me a hard time doin' that if I don't know my best friend is safe and sound."

Tears filled her eyes and threatened to fall. "Thank you."

"Which way were they headin'?"

"Golden and Charlie got into a fight. Charlie told his brother that he was going to go to Mankato to find their older brother."

"Mankato? And Charlie's what? Seven or eight?"

Caroline sighed. "About that. He's such a little boy." She looked at the waves of snow again. "I hope he's all right."

Isaiah took a step toward her. He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Now, don't you worry none about that boy or Charles. I'll find 'em! What with the snow letting up, shouldn't be too hard or take too long. Now, you go back into the house before you freeze." He nodded toward the sack in her hands. "And get those presents under the tree!"

One of the tears managed to escape and trail down her cheek.

"I don't know how to thank you, Isaiah."

He thought a moment and then grinned, "How about a hot cup of coffee and a slice of your mince pie when I get back?"

**********

Charles glanced over at Golden where he lay sleeping in the back of the wagon with his arm wrapped around his little brother. They'd found the boy not too long after they found his pony. The good Lord had been watchin' out for him. It hadn't been too long since the boy'd fallen off his horse and the snow cushioned the fall so he wasn't hurt bad. Just bumps and bruises. They'd brought plenty of blankets so, what with sharing their body warmth, the pair was pretty comfortable.

He was miserable.

When his horse threw him, Charlie had been on top of a rise. The fall took him to the bottom. On top of bein' so scared he couldn't move, the boy's clothing had gotten all twisted up in a bramble bush and he couldn't get free. Golden had wanted to go down the hill after him, but Charles didn't want two wounded boys to look after, so he went down himself. The rise was pretty treacherous to descend, what with the recent snowfall and the ice underneath. On top of that he had his dang shoulder to deal with and it was throbbin' to beat the band. By the time he got the boy out and up the rise, he was plumb worn out himself. Of course, there hadn't been any time to worry about that. Charlie was half-frozen and the next few hours had been spent workin' on him and makin' sure the little boy would survive. By the time he finally had everything done that had to be done, the light was breaking in the sky. Charles remembered lookin' up, and then wakin' up and realizing that he'd fallen asleep right where he was. Someone, Golden most like, had wrapped a blanket around him and placed another one all rolled up under his head.

The curly-haired man stretched and rolled his shoulder, trying to evaluate the damage. He'd packed the wound and it had finally stopped bleeding, but the wound had left him kind of weak. He needed to get up and break their camp, and then get on the road. Caroline would be more than half out of her mind by now and he didn't want to make her and the girls worry any longer than they had to. He knew he needed food to chase the wooziness out of his head, but that meant getting' up and movin' and at the moment he just didn't have a mind to.

"Mister Ingalls?"

Charles started. He blinked. "Golden," he said. "How's your brother?"

"Charlie's still sleeping," the boy replied. He paused and then asked, "Mister Ingalls, are you all right?"

He must have looked a sight.

"I'm right as rain. Just have a little pain in my shoulder where Seamus rested his hooves."

"Are you sure?"

"Sure, I'm sure."

Golden frowned as he asked, "Would you like me to break the camp?"

Charles looked at the fire. It needed put out. He'd thought about getting up to do that, but the more he stared at the flames, the less he thought he could.

"Mister Ingalls," the boy said, sounding a bit like his pa used to, "I think you oughta get in the wagon with Charlie. You're sick."

Charles rose slowly to his feet. "There's nothin' wrong with me that a day by the fire and a good night's sleep won't cure," he said as he took a step.

And then the world tilted to the right.

Golden caught him and steadied him. The boy looked up at him and grinned. "I hear tell you're a God-fearing man, Mister Ingalls. Don't you know it's a sin to tell a lie?"

He liked this boy. Maybe he'd let Mary see him after all.

"Gol-dangit, Charles! If'n you don't look like somethin' the cat dragged in," a cheerful voice announced.

Charles started and then looked to the east. The dawn's light was breaking through the trees and it fell on a wagon parked in the middle of the road. Sitting on the wagon's seat was a very familiar – and _very_ welcome – man wearing a dark coat over a flannel shirt and blue janes.

Isaiah jumped down and came over to them. The mountain man placed his hands on his hips and looked him up and down, not failing to note the bloody bandage on his shoulder.

He let out a sigh.

"Seems like I'm gonna have to tell Caroline she's not allowed to let you out of the house anymore."

The girls were up and about their chores when two wagons rolled into the yard of the Ingalls' home. The first contained Golden and his brother Charlie, who were bunched together on its seat. Behind the wagon trailed a white pony with a gray mane. The second, coming more slowly, held Isaiah Edwards and his friend.

Charles was in the back.

Isaiah drew a breath and held it as he pulled his team to a halt and waited for the wave to hit.

The wave of worried women.

Even as he leapt from the seat and headed for the back of the wagon, the door to Charles' house opened and his little half-pint stepped out. Laura looked at Golden and Charlie and then saw him – and then her Pa struggling to get up.

"Ma!" she called. "Ma! Come quick! Pa's hurt!"

You might as well have opened the gate and let the horses fly.

Mary joined Laura quicker than a flea leapin' out of danger, and the pair of them was headed for the back of the wagon. Caroline stood on the porch, holding their little one and lookin' like she'd see'd a ghost.

Isaiah held up his hand as the girls scrambled into the wagon. "Hold on now! Hold on! Give the man some room."

Charles had managed to make it to the edge of the wagon bed and was sittin' there, gatherin' his strength.

"It ain't as bad as it looks," Isaiah assured them. "Your Pa's just worn out."

"What happened?" Caroline asked as she came alongside him.

"Mister Ingalls got hurt lookin' for Charlie," Golden Caughey said. He was on the ground now, holdin' his little brother by the hand. "Seamus got scared and kicked him in the shoulder. I did what I could to get the bleeding stopped."

Caroline paled even more. "Mary! Come take your sister."

Charles was concentratin' on what he was doing, but he managed to say, "Caroline, I'm fine. I'm just…tired."

Her eyes were on the bandage on his shoulder. "Since when has being tired made a man bleed?" the blonde woman snapped, worry makin' her angry.

"I boiled some snow and cleaned the wound out and bandaged it the best I could, Mrs. Ingalls," Golden assured her. At Charles look, he added, "You were kind of out of it, Mister Ingalls."

Caroline's worry sort of rose with that, like the temperature.

"Isaiah," she said, as she took hold of her husband's good arm, "will you help me get Charles inside where I can take a look at that wound?"

"I can…do it myself," Charles groused as he shook free – and then he stumbled.

Isaiah had seen this scene play out before. He knew his friend and knew how stubborn he was, but if there was one person who was even _more _stubborn, it was Caroline – especially when it came to takin' care of her man.

"I'd give in, Charles," he said almost under his breath. "This is one battle you ain't gonna win."

Charles shot him a look.

"How about if we help you, Pa? Would that be all right?" Mary asked as she and her sister jumped down from the wagon.

His friend looked at his two young'uns, one on either side of him.

"Yeah, Pa. Let us help you," Laura echoed.

Them two, with their little cherubic faces, done sunk the ship.

He didn't know if sittin' in front of the fire in his own home had _ever _felt so good.

Charles shifted his shoulder. It felt better now that the wound had been cleaned properly and bandaged. He had a little bit of fever, but that was to be expected. He'd lost some blood and been a night with it bein' kind of fiery. Caroline had done enough scolding for a whole class of school children before she gave him a big hug and finally admitted how scared she'd been. He loved that woman fiercely and he knew it was the same with her, but there were times when he wondered if she wouldn't have been happier married to a man who lived in a town, who went to work every day and came home the same time every night, safe and sound. Livin' in the wilderness was hard on a woman. Harder than on a man. A man was busy doin'.

All a woman could do was wait.

It was real early in the day, probably around four in the mornin'. Christmas had arrived. They'd had a little celebration the night before, but it was nothin' like other years. He couldn't play the fiddle on account of what Charlie's pony had done to his shoulder and, truth to tell, he was just too tired anyhow. He knew he should be asleep, but he'd taken a late nap and now, was wide awake. It was kind of selfish of him. Sittin' here, broodin'. He should go back to bed. He needed to be there for his family.

As he sat there, ruminating on all that had happened and why the good Lord had _let_ it happen, there was a stirring in the shadows and a small figure appeared. Golden and Charlie were sharin' Carrie's room. His littlest had gone up into the loft to sleep with her sisters. Instead of one of his little girls, a small boy appeared, rubbing his eyes.

"It's awful early, Charlie," he said. "You oughta be asleep."

"Is it Christmas?"

He nodded. "Yep."

The boy's face fell. "I didn't get the present," he said, his words so soft he nearly missed them.

He'd asked Isaiah to go by the old Jenkins place on the way home the night before and to come back and tell him if, well, if the worst had happened. Since the mountain man didn't appear, he guessed the boy's ma was still living.

The boy must be thinkin' of her.

"I bet you and your brother comin' home safe will be the best present there is."

Charlie seemed to think it over. The boy twisted his lips and then looked straight at him with the widest deepest brown eyes he'd ever seen.

"Will you take me to town, Mister Ingalls?"

He shifted to ease the pain in his shoulder. "Whatever for?"

"I need to go to the store. I need to get a pair of shoes for Jesus."

Charles blinked. Then he laughed, thinking of the place in the Good Book where it said Jesus could have had ten thousand angels if he'd wanted them.

"Son," he said softly, "I think Jesus has all the shoes he needs."

"They ain't for Jesus."

His head was hurtin'. "But, you just said…."

"Mama likes to dance. She's gonna need new shoes for Jesus. I gotta get them!" Tears were trailing down the boy's cheeks. "Please!"

Charles shifted forward and called the boy over with a wave. When Charlie was close enough, he took him by both shoulders. As he did, Charles thought of his own girls – what it would be like if they were facing what this boy was, losin' one or the other of them; watchin' them die a slow agonizing death.

"Son, tell me plain what it is you think you need to do."

Charlie drew in a breath and held it for a moment. Then he let it out with a shake of his curly head. "Before she got sick, Mama loved to dance. She'd dance while she was cookin' and doin' chores – even when she was feedin' the chickens! You never seen anybody could dance like her." The boy's tone became wistful. "Then, when she got sick, she couldn't dance no more. Before he went away, Wells said God knew how much Mama likes to dance and so he sent her an invitation to come dance with him, maybe for Christmas, but for sure by the New Year." A tear trailed down the boy's face. "Mama don't have no dance shoes anymore and she's gonna need a new pair to dance with Jesus. Will you take me to town to get her a new pair?"

Charles' heart was breaking.

"Charlie," a soft voice said.

He sucked in the tears and turned to find his wife standing next to the kitchen table.

"Yes, Ma'am?" Charlie asked.

Caroline moved forward. She had something in her hands.

It was her Sunday shoes.

"Do you think these would do for your mama?"

The little boy stared at them, his eyes wide with wonder. He'd bought those shoes for Caroline in Mankato about a year back. It took all the money he'd made from building a cabinet for one of Walnut Grove's wealthier citizens. Money he should have spent on somethin' else, like food. The boots were white with real pearl buttons, with gold trim runnin' up the sides. His wife had scolded him for buying them, but also told him that she felt like a queen when she was wearin' them.

"Are they dance shoes?" the little boy asked, sniffing.

"Oh, yes," Caroline said. "When I put on these shoes, I feel like I'm flying." She smiled. "If you like, you can have them for your mama."

He'd told her the night before about the boys' lie and about the woman who was dying.

Slowly, step by step, Charlie approached Caroline. He held out his hands as she knelt and then handed him the shoes. The boy hugged them to his chest and…

Smiled.

It took his wife about five minutes to return Charlie to his bed. After she did, Caroline came out and sat at his feet. Looking up at him, she asked, "Do you mind, Charles? I…" She sucked in air. "My heart was breaking. I had to…."

He leaned forward and placed a finger to her lips. "I love you, Caroline Ingalls, do you know that?"

She took his hand. "I love you, Charles."

The curly-haired man smiled. He stood up and then pulled his wife up after him. As she laid her head on his shoulder, he began to move, gently swaying from side to side.

As the two of them danced with Jesus and thanked him for everything they had.

EPILOGUE

Charles was sitting in his chair, reading a book, when a knock came on the door. It was mid-afternoon on New Year's Day and he'd managed to find a moment of peace. The girls and Caroline had gone to visit friends. He was alone in the house, a condition that was about as rare as a snake risin' up off the ground and walkin' away on two legs. Laying the book down, he headed for the door just as a second knock came.

When he opened it, he was surprised to find Golden Caughey and his little brother standing in the yard.

They hadn't seen the boys for near a week. Isaiah had run them home that day since he was feelin' poorly. He and Caroline had visited a few days after that. Mrs. Caughey, her name was Bridget, was in a bad way. It was plain as the nose on your face that she only had a short time to live. She was pale and weak, but her eyes were bright when she spoke of her boys and her hopes for their future. Bridget said her oldest, Wells, was scared. He didn't want to be a pa at seventeen, but she was sure he would step up and do what he had to do once she was gone. He and Caroline promised to look out for the boys as best they could; to check up on them and make sure they had what they needed so long as they lived in Walnut Grove. After that, he'd backed away and left Caroline to speak to the dying woman. Not quite sure what to do, he moved around the house, noting how spare it was and mentally making a list of what they could bring them. As he turned back toward the bedroom where Bridget was, he saw the shoes. He didn't know how he'd missed it. They were sittin' on the floor at the end of the bed, tucked a little ways under it.

His eyes had filled with tears then as they did now.

Golden was holdin' the white boots.

"My brother and I wanted to give these back, Mister Ingalls," he said with a glance at Charlie. "Ma don't need them anymore. She passed last night."

Charles drew in a breath. Words were so feeble at a time like this.

"I'm right sorry to hear that, Golden." He looked at the little boy. "Charlie. I'm sorry for your loss."

Charlie looked up at him and surprised him by smiling. "You don't need to be, Mister Ingalls, Ma got the best Christmas present there was."

"Oh?"

Golden's smile was thoughtful. "Ma told us, right before she passed, that she could see the pearly gates and the streets paved with gold. She told Charlie her spirit was goin' to be with Jesus and she was takin' the spirit of her dancin' shoes with her."

"Ma sure was lookin'forward to dancing on those golden streets," Charlie said wistfully.

Charles blinked back tears. He walked to Golden and took the shows from him, and then knelt and offered them to Charlie.

"Caroline and I want you to keep these," he said.

"What for, Mister Ingalls?" the little boy asked. "Ma don't need them no more."

A tear escaped to trail down his cheek. "As a gift and a reminder."

"What will they remind me of?"

"Your Ma, for one, but most of all, they'll remind you of Heaven. You'll grow up, Charlie. When you do, you're gonna have temptations and choices and maybe, just maybe you'll look back on your ma dyin' early and get angry. If that happens, I want you to look at these shoes and remember, no matter how hard life is, if you keep walkin' that golden road, there's a joy beyond all earthly pleasures that comes at the end."

Charlie looked at Golden and then back to him.

"You mean, I get to dance with Jesus too?" the little boy asked.

Charles reached out and gathered him into his arms, crushing the shoes between them.

"You sure do, son. And I can tell you, it's gonna be quite a party!"

That night in bed Caroline rolled over and placed her hand on his shoulder.

"Charles, are you awake?" she asked softly.

He nodded.

"I can't stop thinkin' about those little boys all alone at the Jenkins place."

He'd gone with them to their house. Wells was there. He was diggin' a grave to put his mama in. Neither of them said anything, but he'd fallen to helpin' him and stayed as the boys said goodbye to their ma and they lowered her into the ground. He'd told Caroline when he got home that he'd promised Wells he'd send the Reverend Alden out the next day and the boy had agreed. He'd also offered to help and been surprised when the older boy accepted. Though, Wells didn't _look_ old. He looked like a boy who had lost his ma. Pride was a curse and he knew it, because he struggled with it too. The boy seemed willing to let them help, so maybe some good would come of it after all.

"I know, darlin'," he said as he rolled over to look at her. "We'll do what we can."

"I wish I could take care of them."

He laughed. "Caroline Ingalls, you'd take care of the whole world if you could."

She batted his arm. "Oh, be quiet."

"They got their brother and I think this may be the making of him."

She let out a little sigh. "God works in mysterious ways."

He'd thought about that a lot the last few days. He remembered when he'd climbed up into that tree to get the girls' kite When he'd fallen out of it, he'd been a stranger in Walnut Grove. By the time he healed, he knew he had the gift of neighbors. And there was that time when he got shot accidentally while hunting. He'd watched Laura mature since then in ways that were hard to explain. Everything, it seemed, had a reason and a purpose under the sun.

A man just had to cling to that and believe it.

"Charles?"

He'd fallen silent. His wife was probably wondering why.

"Yes?"

"If God…. Well, if I should die before the girls are grown, I want you to know that it would be all right with me if you remarried."

He sat up in the bed and looked at her. "What?"

"I can't help thinking about it, what with Bridget's passing." She was looking right at him and was sincere. "I want you to be happy."

Happy? A life without Caroline Quiner Ingalls at his side?

"I'm happy now," he said.

"Yes, but sometimes God has other plans."

He stared at her a minute and then pulled her close and held her – living and breathing – in his arms. "I'm just gonna pray that God doesn't ask that of me," he said softly.

She laid her head on his shoulder. "I'd rather die before you," she confessed. "Charles, I don't know what I would do without you."

He frowned. "You know what, I think tomorrow I am going to go over to the Jenkins place and get those boots."

She looked up at him. "Whatever for?"

"Well, I got my own, but yours are missin', and you're gonna need them when we dance up that golden road together."

"Dancing with Jesus?" she asked. "Will there be enough room?"

He leaned down and kissed her.

"You know, I'm sure God made that golden road plenty wide for the three of us."

The end


End file.
